The Art of Communication, by Derek Hale
by Dark K. Sly
Summary: Derek is kind of expecting Stiles to do something – it has been this way ever since they got together, almost five years ago, Stiles a hyperactive teenager, Derek a brooding, inexperienced Alpha.


**This was supposed to be really short and really fluffy. It ended up not so short, and angsty. Oh, well, why do I keep trying?**

**Hope you guys enjoy it! Happy Valentine's Day!**

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_The Art of Communication_

_By Derek Hale_

Derek is kind of expecting Stiles to do something – it has been this way ever since they got together, almost five years ago, Stiles a hyperactive teenager, Derek a brooding, inexperienced Alpha.

It's Valentine's Day, and Derek keeps expecting Stiles to just announce they are going for a picnic in the woods, or for a fancy restaurant, or something romantic and understated, like a movie. He always has plans, and Derek always manages to convince him he doesn't want to go, he's only doing it because Stiles _makes him_ do it (even if he really loves the whole thing). It's their thing, their tradition. Every Valentine's Day, every Thanksgiving, every Christmas, New Year's Eve, hell, even Saint Patrick's Day. Stiles makes a big deal out of it, Derek complains about it, they do whatever Stiles wants to do, and then have amazing, pretend-angry sex.

It's a good system, it's been working for years.

That's why he's so surprised when Stiles is quiet and vaguely nervous that morning. He asks what's wrong, and his mate says nothing. He doesn't mention Valentine's Day, and neither does Stiles.

Stiles has some breakfast, just some dry toast and some tea – which is _beyond_ strange – and then mumbles something about going to his dad's for a bit, before classes.

Derek is left worried and confused: what the hell just happened?

Maybe is all part of a plan. Maybe Stiles planned some big event for later, or something like an outing he wants to take Derek by surprise with.

He lets it go for the moment, and goes to work. When he comes back, Stiles is in the living room of their apartment, watching TV in an old pair of pajamas. He's eating popcorn absently, and smiles a bit at Derek when he comes in.

Not even a _Happy Valentine's Day_ comes his way, and now Derek is definitely worried. He doesn't say anything, though, just washes up, puts on some comfortable pants, foregoing a shirt, and sits by Stiles on the couch.

"Is everything okay?" he eventually asks, and Stiles startles, staring at him wide eyed for a moment.

"Yeah, sure, everything's great. What about you? How was work?"

Derek keeps staring at him before answering slowly – it's not that it's a _lie_, but that answer right there wasn't the truth either.

"Okay. No fires. Just hanging out, mostly."

"Nice. That's very nice. Give the firemen a bit to rest, right? Good."

And then he doesn't say anything else – which in and of itself would be weird for Stiles, but considering today is _Valentine's Day_? That's just plain creepy.

"Any plans for tonight?" Derek asks after a few minutes, and Stiles shrugs.

"No? I mean, everyone is out. Even Isaac got some date from somewhere, I think we're down for the night, dude."

Okay, what the hell is going on here?

Eventually Stiles goes to the kitchen, and Derek thinks this is it. Now he's going to come out with a Valentine surprise, and Derek will pretend he hasn't spent the whole day waiting for it – but all he brings from the kitchen is some Mac and Cheese in two plates and drinks. A beer for Derek, juice for him.

What the hell.

They eat, and Stiles keeps watching the show on TV – Suits, because it makes Stiles laugh a lot, seeing as he _is_ studying to be a Lawyer, and his dream is to be Harvey Specter -, Derek takes the plates away when they are done, puts them in the dishwasher, goes back to the living room, and they watch TV.

After some time – no talks, no surprises, no _nothing_ – Stiles gets up, says he's tired, and goes to their bedroom.

This is it, isn't it? The surprise? Something amazing?

Derek waits a few minutes and follows him.

Stiles is lying in bed, his back to the door – and to Derek's side of the bed, coincidentally – lights out, for all the world as if he's asleep.

Derek looks at him for a few seconds, shakes his head, and gets ready for bed.

Fine. If Stiles doesn't want to do anything for Valentine's Day, who is Derek to complain? He never enjoys these kinds of things as Stiles does, anyway. He doesn't wait for their special dates as the rest of his pack does. Doesn't anticipate every holiday as if it were the last or anything.

He can go to sleep, and leave Stiles in peace, and…

Yeah, he can't get there, because his wolfy senses are tingling (and he'll never, ever admit to Stiles that he uses that expression, at least to himself).

He gets up, turns on the light, sits on the bed, and puts a hand on Stiles's shoulder, turning him to face Derek.

"Okay, what is up with you today?" he demands, and Stiles stares at him, confused.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it's _Valentine's Day_, Stiles. And we haven't done anything. _You_ haven't done anything."

"Well," Stiles begins, sitting up too, and looking at the bed, twisting the sheets in his hands, "Maybe I finally got a clue that you don't like all this stuff, and stopped trying to push my enthusiasm for these things on you."

"What? Why would you do that?!" Derek asks, nervous and agitated – even his wolf is kind of out of sorts because of the things Stiles said – not really _what_ he said, but _the way_ he said it. Defeated and sad and lost. It's wrong. That's not how Stiles is supposed to sound _at all_.

"Because I don't want to push things on you anymore, Derek! I keep on making you do things you don't want to do, and making you celebrate dates you don't want to celebrate, and try things you don't want to try! I don't want to do that to you anymore, okay? It's not fair to _you_ that I get what I want, and you don't! I mean, how fair is it that I get to celebrate all these things if _you_ don't want them? Relationships are made of two people, not only one! I don't want to force you into anything more than you can handle, and if I have to give up Valentine's Day and Christmas, and Thanksgiving, then I will, because I love you, like, a lot, and I don't want to lose you just because I_ want _things that you don't!"

Okay, so he's on a roll, and Derek tries to stop him.

"Stiles, you don't—"

"I'm pregnant."

Okay.

He…

He was _not_ expecting that.

At all.

Like, _at all_.

"What did you just say?" he asks, his voice weak, and thank _everything_ he's sitting, or he'd have fallen down for sure.

"I'm pregnant. You know, like Deaton told us could happen? The reason we've been wearing condoms all our relationship, even though I've never been with anyone else, and you can't get sick? Well, they only work, like, 97% of the time, okay? We made the three percent. We are special. I am pregnant."

Derek can't quite _grasp_ that concept yet, though. Pregnant?

"And I know you… you don't want this. I know that. I don't want to force you into it, it happens, we knew there was a chance, and there was nothing _else_ we could do, I guess, to prevent it."

Pregnant. With a small person, a tiny little bundle of life, made up of Stiles and _him_, that would _grow_.

"You don't… you don't have to worry about it, okay? I mean, I'm keeping it, dude, I'm so keeping it, but you don't have to be involved, like, _at all_. I know you've never wanted this. I'll just keep a low profile as I go along, and Deaton said he'd help me, and I can just… move in with my dad until I finish school."

It would grow. _It_ would turn into a he or a she, and they'd be _beautiful_, and made up of _both of them_. God, it was…

What the hell was Stiles _saying_?!

"What are you saying?!" he asks, his eyes flashing red briefly, and Stiles looks _terrified_ all of a sudden.

What the hell did he do wrong?

"I'm saying you don't have to worry. But I'm also saying I'm keeping it. You can do whatever the hell you want, you may not want this, but I do!" his mate's voice is fierce and courageous, and Derek wants to hold him close, and kiss him, and _thank him_ –

- but first…

"_What_ are you saying?! How can you think I wouldn't want this? You? You two, actually! How can you—" but he doesn't get to finish, because Stiles is throwing his hands in the air in exasperation.

"Because you never SAY anything! Derek, we got this apartment together because I practically dragged you out of your burnt house and into here with me when I graduated High School! You haven't attended a single family event without cursing up a storm and glaring half the time! You _flinch_ if a kid comes too close to us when we're out of the house, and that time in the Lacrosse field, when the little girl asked you to throw the ball at her, _you turned your back on the kid_. For five _years _I had to drag you in relationshippy things, anniversaries and Valentine's Day celebrations, and dates, and now you're looking at me like I'm crazy, because I'm assuming you don't want to have a baby with me? Seriously? Can you not follow the dots here?"

Holy crap. He's a father for less than five minutes and he's already screwing this up.

"I turned my back on her because I thought I could hurt her" he ends up saying, and Stiles stares at him, his mouth hanging open.

"What?"

"The girl? I was afraid I would throw the ball with too much strength, and I'd hurt her" he pauses, and, tentatively, takes one of Stiles's hands into one of his, "I complain about it because the first few times you dragged me kicking and screaming into things, you felt elated. You felt good for being able to make me do things I wouldn't, I could feel it. I thought it made you happy. I thought it was our thing."

"Derek…" Stiles's voice is soft, and Derek looks down, not letting go of his hand, though.

"I _want_ this. Ever since Deaton said _it could_ happen, I've wanted this. But you were in High School and then you were in college, and then you got into Law School in Stanford, and it was your dream, so I was putting this talk off until we were ready. Until _you_ were ready" Derek explains, and Stiles is staring at him incredulously, his mouth hanging open.

"And you didn't think to _tell_ me that?!"

"I thought you _knew!_"

Stiles huffs exasperatedly, and shakes his head.

"_Dude_, NEVER assume I know anything, okay? You never TEEL me stuff, Derek, I was here thinking I'd have to raise a werewolf child on my own, and hide that I'm pregnant from _everyone_, because you don't SAY things! Your house is been ready for, like, two _years_ now, and not even _once_ you told me what to plan to do with it!"

"We're going to _live_ there! When we had a family, and we were married, and…"

"DUDE! I thought you kept the house because if you ever grew tired of me, you would have a place to go!"

Derek makes a noise that is completely inhuman at that – which wouldn't be surprising, since, well, _werewolf_ – but it's not exactly werewolfish either.

It's just… distress.

"God, I suck so _much_ at this."

"Yeah, you do" Stiles says, but in his exasperation there's fondness, and Derek stares at him, and then at his stomach.

"It's not showing yet, you freak. I'm only four weeks along."

"Oh, ok."

"Just so we're clear, you want this?"

"More than anything."

"And we're moving to your old house."

"As soon as you want to."

"And we're getting married."

"Yes. As soon as I ask you properly."

Stiles laughs at that, and comes closer, kissing Derek gently.

"Good" he whispers, "Happy Valentine's Day."

Derek smirks, and kisses Stiles again, pulling him close.

They lie down like that, peaceful and quiet for a few moments. Derek turns the lights off, and they enjoy the silence.

Suddenly, Derek sits up on the bed.

"Shit."

"What is it?" Stiles asks, ready to panic.

"I knocked up the Sheriff's kid" Derek says, looking _freaked out_.

Stiles stares at him for a whole minute before bursting into laughter.

Derek savors that moment, and makes a promise to himself to never let things get that far without _saying_ things.

He has his Stiles, _their_ kid, love. A family.

All in all, best Valentine's Day ever.

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